


Day 2: Bumblebee

by GemmaRose



Series: Lost Light Fest 2019 [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Functionist Universe (Transformers), M/M, Mutual Pining, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 05:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Bumble loves his job, he really does, but some days Lightning makes going rogue seem so appealing.





	Day 2: Bumblebee

**Author's Note:**

> It is my personal headcanon that when all CC mechs were "deported" off of Functionist Cybertron, the Council actually took them all, and whichever forged mechs voluntarily left with them, and used them for parts, putting their sparks and brain modules in cold storage. Those sparks were then used in the first wave of Council-Approved CC production, which is how they were able to start making them as soon as Rung died. Accordingly, some CC mechs have different designations than in canon, but they should still be obvious enough.

There were a great many things Bumble was grateful for. He was grateful the first glyph of his designation made a good nickname, unlike most of his batchmates. He was grateful he’d been forged to be a guard, a job essential enough he was more likely to be reassigned than deemed surplus to requirements. He was grateful he’d met Prowl and Skids and Getaway and all his other friends. Right now though, he was mostly grateful he was conscious.

“Trines: 3. Grounders: 0.” Meteor crowed, and Bumble groaned into the pavement under his face.

“You alright there, Bee?” Lightning asked, pulling him to his pedes like he weighed nothing.

“Mostly.” he grimaced, wiping grit from the new dent in his helm.

“Mostly, except for the fact that you’re _losing_.” Meteor mocked, flicking the cube up into the air for another round.

“Not for long!” one of his teammates yelled, and charged the seeker with a roar more worthy of a battlefield than a chalked-out cube field. Lightning laughed, and Bumble elbowed him in the hip.

“Sore winner.” he muttered, and Lightning laughed again as he dropped a chaste kiss on the dented armour.

“Feel better now?”

“I’ll feel better when we kick your afts.” he grinned, and Lightning yelped as Bumble knocked his pedes out from under him.

A good cycle later, after narrowly keeping one of his teammates from starting a brawl by punching Meteor in his stupid, smug face, Bumble flopped down on the Hadeen-warmed tarmac next to Lightning, careful not to land on the seeker’s flame-edged wings. “Good game?”

“_Great_ game.” Lightning grinned, rolling onto his side to fix Bumble with that lopsided grin of his. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Bumble smiled, more genuinely than he’d ever expected to when Prowl asked this of him. It was hard not to like Lightning though. He was loud, and as over-competitive as his trine leader, but outside of games he was quiet and thoughtful, his processor working in ways Bumble was certain he’d never properly comprehend. “How’ve things been going on your end?” he sat up and reached over Lightning to trace the edge of his flame decals, first where white met blue and then where red met white. He would’ve loved to run his fingers along the red leading edge of Lightning’s wing, but that was a truly terrible idea. He was supposed to be earning the trine’s trust and getting information out of them, not getting emotionally invested.

“Not bad.” Lightning caught his hand and laced their fingers together, signing {Dangerous} into his palm. “Meteor’s been running us ragged trying to keep up with the new guys.”

“You should kick their tailpipes at cube.” he suggested lightly, signing back {Safe?}

“We _tried_.” Lightning whined, optics crinkling at the edges in a brief but genuine smile. {Always. You?} “They’re just too good.”

{Protected} Bumble signed back as he chuckled, and Lightning sat up as his teleporting trinemate Skycrow approached. Bumble’s hand felt colder for the loss of the seeker’s fingers between his own.

“We haven’t got much time left before Cal notices we’re off-base.” he warned, and Lightning groaned theatrically.

“Just once, I’d love to have time to actually hang out.” he complained. Skycrow flicked him in the middle of his forehelm.

“The Cause comes first.”

“I know, I know.” Lightning sighed, pushing himself up to his pedes and offering Bumble a hand. “No chance we could convince you to come home with us?” his wings flicked up hopefully, and it took almost all of Bumble’s self-control to keep his doorwings from mimicking the motion.

“I do have a job.” he said regretfully. “So unless your boss would let me go home after...”

Lightning pouted as Skycrow shook his helm, and Bumble wasn’t surprised but still found himself disappointed. Not only because a visit to the Arsonist base would mean a wealth of intel for Prowl, but because he wanted to hang out with Lightning more as well. Wanted to be able to speak freely, without worrying about sky-spies or eavesdropping programs in passing mechs. But it was perfectly sound, not letting him anywhere near their base without a thorough scan and proper approval. For all they knew he could be absolutely loaded with Council spyware, he did work at one of their labs after all.

“Next time?” Lightning asked hopefully as Skycrow grabbed his elbow.

“I’ll do my best.” Bumble forced a smile, and as soon as the two trines vanished in a blink of purple he let his shoulders slump. He was supposed to be gathering intel, not getting attached. He’d picked Lightning because the mech was the most approachable of the rebel seekers who came here to play cube, because he was open and friendly and honestly had seemed the most likely to let something important slip by mistake. He’d been right about the first two, mostly wrong about the third, but by the time he realized it was too late.

Meteor was undoubtedly the strongest personality of his trine, he was their leader for a reason after all, but Lightning’s easy cheer and easier warmth were impossible to deny. Bumble cared, he wanted Lightning to be safe, to stay away from the fighting the flames on his wings marked him as part of. He wanted to offer Lightning protection, pit Shockwave could take all three of them in if Lightning didn’t want to leave his trine, but he knew Lightning would turn him down. And anyways, Prowl would forbid it on the grounds Lightning was the closest thing they had to a mech on the inside of the most dangerous rebel group on the planet. Without contest now too, since the Wreckers had donned flames and started showing up at Arsonist attacks.

Bumble bid goodbye to the mechs who’d been pulled into the game with them, mechs he strongly suspected were Arsonist sympathisers if not outright undercover agents, and began drafting his report as he transformed and started driving back to the compound. One day, once they’d cracked the secret of truly secure comms, perhaps he’d be able to take Lightning up on his offer. Primus, he hoped he’d be able to do that.

**Author's Note:**

> The designations of Bumble’s batchmates include: Crumble, Dumble, Fumble, Grumble, Humble, Jumble, Stumble, Tumble, Mumble, and Numble. Their proto-batch initiator wasn’t particularly imaginative with naming them. They referred to themselves by the first letter or two of their designations during their training to cut down on confusion, and for Bee that happened to stick.


End file.
